


Trying to Spot Something Real Nice

by Perpetual Motion (perpetfic)



Category: Generation Kill
Genre: First Time, M/M, OFCs - Freeform, Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2014-12-20
Packaged: 2018-03-02 12:55:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2812748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perpetfic/pseuds/Perpetual%20Motion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stafford and Christeson, out of theater but still in each other's back pockets and maybe (totally) on a date.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trying to Spot Something Real Nice

They're in Germany for a few weeks because apparently every fucking Marine who has ever lived has to hang out in Germany after their deployment to remind the assholes who they lost to in World War II or some shit. At least, that's Stafford's theory. Christeson had agreed, then guessed that maybe it's a reward. There's no speed limit on the Autobahn, and the beer doesn't suck, so maybe it's a fuck you and a "congratulations, you didn't fucking die" present.

Whatever the reason for being in fucking Germany, they're there, and they get liberty, and it's only after they've gotten to the hotel and skinned out of their uniforms and thrown on the clean civvies buried in the bottom of their packs that Christeson grins wide and says, "I've got a surprise."

"Yeah?" Stafford asks, and he silently swears at the way his heart pounds when Christeson grins at him. He is older. He's the better-trained Marine. He is technically Christeson's superior. But Christeson looks like every hot jock Stafford got a boner for in high school, and he knows he's a weird looking fucker, so being friends with Christeson is equal parts fucking awesome and also mildly awful because, god,Stafford wants to fuck him into next week.

Christeson makes a show of digging through his duffel, then pulls out two slips of paper. They're barely wrinkled, so he must have just gotten them. "German hip hop concert," Christeson says. "Fourth row. Tonight."

"What?!" Stafford yelps. "Shut your fucking face!"

"Nope," Christeson says, his grin widening. "Me and my boy, we're gonna get our party on."

"Fuck yeah we are," Stafford replies. He whoops and jumps on the bed. Christeson joins him, and they bounce up and down like a couple of kids. "How the fuck you'd even get 'em?" Stafford asks.

"I'm not telling you, fucker," Christeson replies. "A man's got to have his secrets."

"Bullshit," Stafford replies, and they laugh and whoop and tackle each other to the bed, wrestling around until they're breathless, Christeson on top of Stafford, sitting on his chest. Stafford with his hands on Christeson's arms, ready to throw his weight and pin him down.

"We got a few hours," Christeson says as he catches his breath. "Wanna get up to some trouble?"

_I want to suck your dick_ , Stafford thinks, but he knows better than to say it, even jokingly. "Yeah," he says. "Let's get some beer and fuck some shit up."

"Hell, yeah," Christeson replies, and he gets up off Stafford's chest and holds out his hand to haul him to his feet.

*

There's a bar on the corner, and they go in and order beers and food. They keep their heads down and talk quietly to one another because, yeah, they said "fuck some shit up," but realistically, it's five in the evening and it feels like it's early afternoon, and there's no way Fick is gonna excuse a bar brawl if it starts before midnight.

Not that they'd asked or anything.

"Dude," Christeson says, looking out the window that faces the next block. "Bookstore."

Stafford turns to look. "Yup," he says because that's exactly what it is.

"Wanna hit it up? I am so fucking tired of the Art of fucking War and shit."

"What do you read?" Stafford asks, realizing he doesn't actually know.

"I like fantasy," Christeson says. "Some sci-fi. Literary stuff sometimes, but most of it just feels like dudes jerking off on the page."

"Short stories?"

"I dunno. Never tried them. You do short stories?"

"Yeah. Got into them in basic. You can read a whole story before you sack the fuck out. Annoyed me a lot less than having to re-read chapters because I was tired as shit."

"Huh," Christeson says. "Short stories."

They finish their beers and food and go over to the bookstore. Stafford browses the short stories and picks a collection that looks interesting, and then he wanders into non-fiction. _Jarhead_ is prominently displayed, and he makes a face at it before turning around and going to browse mysteries. He finds a couple of books there, and then he goes looking for Christeson.

Christeson is crouched down, head tilted to one side as he reads titles. There's a small stack of books next to him, and Stafford crouches as well and starts to go through them. "New series," Christeson says.

"Oh," Stafford replies. " _Dresden Files_ , huh? You read this guy before?"

"Nah, but it sounds pretty good. Dude's a private investigator wizard in Chicago."

"Huh," Stafford says. He opens the top book and skims a few pages while Christeson keeps looking. "His writing doesn't suck," he says.

"Cool."

Christeson doesn't add any more books to the pile before he calls it good. They pay for the books and go back to the hotel. It's only a little before seven. The concert starts at nine. They veg on their respective beds, reading their new books. "Anyone asks, we fucked shit up," Christeson says when they get up to leave for the concert.

"No shit," Stafford replies. "Bar fights every night, yo."

They get to the venue an hour early, and there's already a line. "Maybe they're good," Stafford says.

"I don't fucking care. I just want seven beers and someone hot to grind on."

_Don't offer,_ Stafford tells himself. _Not even as a fucking joke._

It's hot as hell inside the venue, and Stafford's glad he's just worn a tank top and shorts. When the opening act comes out, the crowd screams in appreciation, and Stafford and Christeson exchange an amused look. They don't understand the lyrics, but the music is mostly bass, so they get on just fine. There's a couple of girls in the next two seats, and Stafford immediately offers to buy them beers.

"Sure," says one, and her friend giggles and nods.

"Back in a sec," Christeson shouts, and he heads out towards the concession area.

"Your friend is cute," the giggly girl says.

"You are cute," the other girl says to him.

"Well, all right," Stafford says. He lifts up his arm and waits for the girl's nod before dropping it around her shoulders. "Think we'll all have a good fucking time."

When Christeson comes back, miraculously balancing four beers, he gives Stafford a look that he can only interpret as pissed off. Did he want the girl--Anna, Stafford's discovered--who said Stafford was cute?

"Sophia thinks you're cute," Stafford yells in Christeson's ear, gesturing to the other girl, who giggles again as she accepts her beer.

"Well, you are," she says when Christeson looks at her.

"Dude?" Stafford asks when Christeson continues to look pissed.

"Fuck it," Christeson mutters, and Stafford has to read his lips to hear it.

"Hey!" Stafford says, shoving at Christeson's arm. "Dude, the fuck? We got beer and hip hop and pretty girls!"

Christeson downs half his beer in a long series of swallows, then wipes his mouth. "Yeah," he says. He gives Stafford a hard look Stafford can't read, and then he steps around him and Anna to get over to Sophia.

"Hey," he says, giving her the wide, easy grin that's usually pointed at Stafford. "Sophia, huh?"

"Yes," she says.

And that's when Stafford realizes this was supposed to be a date. "Fuck."

"What?" Anna asks. She's got an arm around his waist as she bobs along to the music, and her beer's already a quarter gone.

Stafford looks at Christeson, but Christeson isn't looking at him. He's flirting with Sophia, leaning in and grinning like he always does to Stafford. Pulling faces to make her laugh. Slinging his arm around her shoulder in the same loose way he did with Evan when they were in Iraq.

"Nothing," Stafford says, putting his attention back on Anna. "Nothing."

The girls insist on buying the second round of beers, and Stafford and Christeson let them. The opening act leaves the stage to respectable applause, and a loudspeaker announces something that ends in "funf minuten."

"Five minutes," Christeson says.

"Yeah," Stafford replies, though he'd already figured it out. "Hey," he says after a few seconds. "Was this a fucking date?"

"What?" Christeson asks, looking shocked. "The fuck, dude?"

"Is this a fucking date?" Stafford asks again.

"What kind of a fucking question is that?"

"The kind you haven't fucking denied, asshole."

Christeson gapes, then blushes, then looks down and rubs the back of his neck. "Fuck," he says. "You...um."

"DADT is bullshit," Stafford says. "I don't fucking care, all right? I'll tell you right now I've had a dick in my mouth and liked it. I don't give a fuck."

"Jesus fuck," Christeson replies, and his blush intensifies. "Okay. Yeah. It was--I mean, I was gonna tell you. For real, bro. I was--"

"It's cool," Stafford says. "There's regs and shit."

"Yeah. Regs and shit." Christeson finally looks up, and he's still bright goddamn red. "You wanna fuck Anna?" he asks.

Stafford shrugs. "I mean, yeah, if she's up for it. She's cute. Probably screams when you do her, but it's not, like, an established goal or some shit. Why? You wanna fuck Sophia?"

"Yeah, but the same way you wanna fuck Anna."

Stafford considers that. "Know who I wanna fuck?"

"Who?"

"The dumb bastard who didn't tell me this was a goddamn date."

Christeson goes red again, but he's grinning. "No shit?"

"No shit."

"Since when?"

"I dunno," Stafford says. He really doesn't. It's just always been a fact, it feels like.

"Yeah. Same."

The crowd starts screaming before Stafford can respond. He looks at the stage and realizes the main attraction is set up and getting ready to start their set. "Fuck this!" he yells at Christeson. "Won't be able to understand shit. Let's bail."

"What about Anna and Sophia?"

"They're hot. They'll find a couple of guys to take the extra beers off their hands."

"Okay." Christeson looks like maybe he feels about ten percent guilty they're about to bail on the girls.

"Come on," Stafford says, grabbing his arm and yanking, leading him through the seats and into the aisle and then towards the very back of house next to the exit doors. It's dark as shit and no one's looking at them, so he grabs Christeson and kisses the hell out of him. Christeson kisses him back, pressing him against the wall and rubbing against him so that Stafford swears into his mouth and bites down on his bottom lip.

"I'm gonna bend you over the fucking bed," Stafford says into Christeson's ear.

"Not if I pin you first," Christeson replies, and he pulls away and grabs Stafford by the front of his shirt and drags him out of the venue and onto the street and points them towards the hotel. They're halfway there when Stafford wrestles him into an alley, yanks down his shorts, and drops to his knees to blow him. "Fuck." Christeson says when Stafford sucks on his dick. "Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck."

Stafford grins around his dick and undoes his own shorts, pulling himself out and jerking off hard and quick. Christeson comes while trying to clutch Stafford's hair, and once he's finished, Stafford sucks one last time, then stands and jerks off until he comes on Christeson's stomach.

"Fuck, dude, I gotta walk back to the hotel with jizz on my shirt?"

"Live with it," Stafford says as he buttons up. He crowds Christeson against the wall and buttons him up as well. "You're my bitch now."

"Fuck that. You're my bitch." Christeson throws an arm around Stafford's shoulder and slides the other hand over Stafford's ribcage. "Swear to Christ, every combat jack I had was about you."

"Yeah?" Stafford asks.

"You're smart as shit and you're hot. Fuck yeah."

"I'm not hot."

"I said you're fucking hot, homes. You're hot."

Stafford feels himself flushing. "Fine. Fuck it. Sure. But you're still the hot one."

"Yeah?" Christeson asks, and he's blushing again. "You think so?"

"Dude, have you seen you?"

"I don't know. I looked like a total spazz in high school."

"Well, I look like a total spazz still, so who gives a shit. Let's get back to the hotel and fuck ourselves to death."

"Totally," Christeon agrees, and they step out of the alley, arms around each other, and half-run to the hotel.

Later, after they fuck and shower and fuck again, Stafford will burst out laughing when they're both half-asleep and will have to explain through his choking giggles that this is gonna be the worst goddamn get together story to have to revise to be able to tell their mommas.

"Let 'em freak," Christeson mumbles against his shoulder. "It's fucking awesome."

"Goddamn right," Stafford agrees, and they'll fall off to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to templemarker for the great beta! This ones for all you other YAGKYAS peeps and GK fans who love the war husbands as much as I do. The dorks. Title from _Ride Wit Me_ by Nelly.


End file.
